


Vermin

by Minutia_R



Category: Hawk & Fisher - Simon R Green
Genre: Animal Abuse, Gen, Rats & Mice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All criminals are vermin," said Fisher.  "And vice versa."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vermin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



"Aha," said Fisher. "Caught red-handed." Rapists and cutthroats felt suddenly colder when they heard that undercurrent of satisfaction in Fisher's voice, but the current object of her ire only blinked her red eyes impassively.

"Red-pawed," Hawk corrected her.

"Pawed, whatever." Fisher flipped her knife to an overhand grip, for throwing.

"Now Isobel, let's not be so hasty," said Hawk. "This lady's a first-time offender, not a hardened criminal."

"All criminals are vermin," said Fisher. "And vice versa."

It was a pleasant summer evening—as pleasant as they got in Haven, and only slightly muggy—but the street was nearly deserted. When the breeze came up from the sea, Old Wharf Street was downwind from Tanner's Lane, and no one went there unless it was for business. And no one had business there anymore. Except, if Hawk's old acquaintance Songbird Sam could be believed, for a small-time sorcerer who called herself Gladhand, and who'd disappeared about a month back in conjunction with several other people's money.

"Still," Hawk said, "we could go easy on her. If she cooperates, and leads us to her confederates."

"Huh," said Fisher. She didn't throw her knife, but she didn't lower it, either.

It was true that the rat hunched against the rotting face of the warehouse wasn't one of Haven's ordinary street rats. Too sleek, and white rather than dark brown. While most rats would have run when they saw people, or, if driven by desperate hunger, attacked, this one only twitched its whiskers and looked curiously at Hawk and Fisher before dragging its prize—a badly mauled piece of unidentifiable meat—under the warehouse door.

"Now we know which supposedly-abandoned warehouse Gladhand was using." Hawk grinned. "Shall we go back to Glen for a warrant?"

"Warrant, hell," said Fisher with a smirk, tilting her head to where the rat had disappeared. "We're in hot pursuit."

Hawk drove his shoulder into the door, and staggered a bit when it came apart like wet paper. Fisher followed him into the warehouse, coughing. If possible, it smelled worse inside than out. Hawk lit his lantern once they got past the rectangle of early-evening light from the broken door, but there wasn't much to see. Everything had been cleared out, burned, or smashed past identifying—except for the cages against one wall. And their contents.

"Whatever Gladhand was working on," said Fisher dryly, and with only a slight wobble in her voice as she swallowed down her gorge, "it needed a lot of animal subjects."

"Bastard," growled Hawk. "She just left them. She closed up shop and skipped town and just _left_ them . . ."

"Too bad she didn't leave anything useful," said Fisher, continuing to prowl the ruined warehouse. "Another bloody dead end. Glen will get the forensic sorcerers in here, but—" Catching a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, she spun around and dropped into a crouch, knife out. But it was just the rat, wriggling into one of the bottom cages through a hole it must have chewed in the bottom. A flurry of high-pitched squeaks greeted the rat's arrival, and a mass of tiny furry bodies tumbled over each other to get at the scrap of meat. "Hawk—she's got babies."

"Who?" said Hawk. He crouched next to Fisher and looked over her shoulder. "God. How did they survive?"

"How does anyone survive, in Haven?" The rat babies, their meal eaten, crept towards the mesh front of the cage, where they peered at Hawk and Fisher with the same frank curiosity their mother had shown.

"By avoiding us, usually," said Hawk wryly. "We might as well put them down. The last thing the streets of Haven need is more rats."

"They wouldn't be on the streets of Haven if we took them home." Fisher looked at Hawk over her shoulder. "Consider it a sort of . . . protective custody."

"Hey," said Hawk. "Hey, we have an arrangement. I'm the good cop. You're the bad cop."

The mother rat began to chatter her teeth together, high and quick. "Is she . . . is she purring?" said Fisher.

"All right, lass," said Hawk softly. "This time, you get to be the good cop."

**Author's Note:**

> The tech level of the Hawk-&-Fisher-verse is somewhat unpredictable, but for the sake of the happy ending I will assume that somewhere in Haven is a sorcerer who neuters rats.


End file.
